I Will Not Bow
by IAmAlbertWesker
Summary: In a battle for his life, Chris Redfield finds himself defeated by his nemesis, Albert Wesker. He is brutally abused mentally and physically, and injected with a special serum, Chris forgets every memory he had ten years prior to his capture, only remembering his days during stars and that before. But nightmares haunt him, and Chris soon finds out they aren't dreams but memories.
1. Captured

Chris and Sheva proceeded through the sliding door, raising their guns at the sight of Wesker with his back turned to them, leaned over slightly as he looked down upon the plane, a vessel to the soon-to-be catastrophe – Uroboros.

"Your plans are finished, Wesker!" Chris said, taking a step forward.

"There's no way out this time!" Sheva said, stepping beside Chris.

"Don't you two ever tire of failing in your mission?" Wesker removed his shades. "You've really become quite an inconvenience for me."

Wesker lashes out, tossing his shades towards Chris, who instinctively catches them, letting down his guard. Wesker takes advantage of this, initiating close combat, first striking at Chris, sending the brunet flying into the wall before falling and rolling onto his back. Wesker then strikes at Sheva, flipping her onto her back and getting his glasses back in the process, replacing them on the bridge of his nose.

Chris regains his composure, firing at Wesker, who simply dodges the bullets before Chris tries to tackle him, Wesker barely sliding a foot back before cracking his neck, a smirk on his face. Wesker knees Chris in the stomach, drives his elbow into the brunets back, and tosses him against the railing.

Chris groans out in pain, quickly recovering and shooting again at Wesker, who simply does a back hand spring and an aerial, the bullets swishing by, and lands swiftly, grabbing Sheva's wrist and holds her in front of himself, using her as a shield.

"Why are you doing this? What do you accomplish by unleashing Uroboros?" Chris kept his sights pinned on Wesker, though the struggling Sheva made it hard to keep his aim straight.

Wesker tightens his grip on Sheva, a scowl on his face.

"Every day humans come one step closer to self-destruction. I'm not destroying the world, I'm saving it!"

Sheva breaks free from Wesker's grasp, getting out of the way as Chris shoots at Wesker once more. Wesker manages to simultaneously block their attacks and dodge the bullets, grabbing Chris and Sheva's wrists tossing them down to the level below, Chris landing on his stomach as Sheva lands on her back. Chris looks to his side as the PG67A/W serum lands beside him.

"This guy's lost it," Sheva states, managing to get to her feet.

Chris picks up the serum and holds it tightly. "This may be our only chance!"

"Do it," Sheva says, looking up as Wesker leaps down to the level below, standing in front of the two heroes.

The building's roof begins to open, preparing for the planes departure.

"Things are really getting interesting now, eh Chris? Do you actually think you can defeat me?" Wesker smirks.

Chris tightens his hold on his Berretta. "Either way, I'm not gonna stop until I'm dead!"

Wesker chuckles, his sadistic grin quickly replaced with a frown. "Well then, I'll just have to kill you quickly." He flexes his fingers, thoughts of driving his hand through their chests filling his mind.

The two heroes split apart, trying to find some means of defeating Wesker. Chris distracted his former captain as Sheva thought up a plan.

"If we take advantage of the dark, we might actually hit him." She pointed out.

It made enough since, considering the blond was constantly wearing shades. Chris ran to a corner of the room, pulling hard on one of the levers, some of the lights shutting off. He did this two other times until the room was almost completely engulfed in darkness, their human eyes adjusting to the small amount of light, but Wesker's did not.

"There's no point in hiding. Is that all you have?" Wesker turns on the spot, trying to locate the heroes. Chris fires at the blond from behind, but Wesker still manages to dodge every bullet, his hearing too sharp.

"Ignorant cretins! Has it never occurred to you that this planet is overpopulated? Only a handful of humans truly matter. Everyone else is just so much chaff. So now I have to separate this chaff from the wheat. And with Uroboros I can finally accomplish this!" Wesker states, his voice filled with determination.

Sheva runs out of her hiding place, distracting Wesker long enough for Chris to grab the RPG from the glass case, bending down on one knee and looking down the sights, aiming right at Wesker.

"Move," he yells, hesitating long enough for Sheva to roll out of the way as he fires the rocket. Wesker catches the rocket in mid-air, the tip only inches away from his face as he struggles against it. Chris pulls out his Berretta and takes aim, his sharpshooter skills coming in handy as he fires a single bullet, hitting the rocket and causing it to explode in the face of his enemy.

Wesker falls to one knee, momentarily knocked down from the assault, as Sheva appears behind him and pulls his arms behind his back.

"Do it now! Give him the shot!" Sheva struggles to keep Wesker at bay as Chris rushes forward, but not soon enough as Wesker recovers, throwing Sheva off of him. He jumps up to the level the platform, grasping a white missile and grinning sadistically as he hurls it down towards the heroes.

The missile hits the ground between the two, exploding on impact and sending shrapnel flying and causing flames to lick the air. Chris is thrown back across the room, the back of his head colliding painfully with the wall before he falls to the floor, the serum falling from his pocket and landing beside him once more. His vision is blurry and blackening around the edges as he reaches his hand out towards his salvation – the one thing that can stop the monster that he once loved and adored oh so long ago.

Wesker's boot crushes Chris' fingers painfully, causing the brunet to his out in pain, his conscious leaving him all the quicker. He looks up at the black clad figure standing above him, surrounded by darkness, eyes of the brightest fire and reddest molten lava staring unmercifully down upon him, and for the first time in his life, Chris Redfield had come to known true fear as the darkness engulfed him as his lithe figure lay sprawled out on the floor before his most hated enemy.


	2. Broken

~Day 2~

Chris slowly came to consciousness. The back of his head throbbed painfully, and he opened his eyes to complete darkness. He doubted whether he could see or not but realized it was only a lack of light. His surroundings were questionable as he sat up off of the floor and brought a hand to his head, feeling the warm wet trickle of blood slide down his fingers. He let out a small groan and slid back until his back was resting against the wall, his arms on his knees and his head resting between his legs.

The last thing the sharpshooter could remember was Wesker's bright red eyes. He clenched his hands into fists and hissed out in pain when he remembered Wesker had crushed the fingers of his left hand between his boot and the floor. Chris cradled his injured hand to his chest and felt around for his gun, which was missing from its holster as well as his knife and all the medical supplies he'd carried with him when he set off to find and kill Albert Wesker.

The brunet sighed and tilted his head back against the wall, trying to think of anything but the blond demon that captured him. A metallic sliding door opened with a whoosh and the fluorescent lights on the ceiling turned on, blinding Chris temporarily. Once his eyes adjusted, he looked up to find no other than said blond standing before him, clad in his usual black leather attire.

"Glad to see you've finally awoken, _Chris_." Wesker hissed the brunet's name as if it were acid on his tongue.

"Save it, Wesker! Where am I?" Chris took the moment to look around the room, which was completely white and had absolutely nothing in it. The tiles around him were stained dark red with his blood.

Wesker chuckled and looked down upon the brunet, his demonic eyes flashing behind his shades.

"Somewhere no one will ever find you."

And with that, Wesker began his assault.

Chris barely had time to register that the blond was no longer standing in front of him before a black clad hand was wrapped around his throat, lifting him into the air so he was slightly above Wesker. His hands automatically went to the hand cutting off his oxygen supply, clawing at it uselessly but to no avail. Chris gasped hard, trying to fill his lungs with oxygen that would not come, the edges of his vision beginning to blur. At the last possible moment, Wesker loosened his grip, allowing the brunet to take large gulps of air into his lungs before coughing spastically.

Wesker smirked at the sight of his inferior in pain, relishing in the pleasure it brought him. Oh, the fun he would have with his new toy. With a flick of his wrist, Chris was thrown against the wall, falling to the floor in a heap. Wesker took one final glance at the injured Redfield before striding from the room.

~Day 5~

Chris had no recollection of time in this place. Every minute that passed by felt like hours, every hour like days, every day like months. Wesker came and went often, bringing only more destruction to Chris' body and will in his wake. The sharpshooter was beyond hungry, his arms wrapped around his stomach in a feeble attempt to try and ease the pain. His wounds went untended as always, more and more bruises and scars littering his lithe form every day.

~Day 12~

When he was alone, Chris thought a lot. What purpose could he serve Wesker, other than a toy to play with and neglect whenever felt like? He had always known the blond to be sadistic, but at this point Chris was beginning to doubt if help was ever going to come. He tried to remain as strong as possible mentally, but his physical weaknesses were beginning to weigh him down.

~Day 17~

Chris had come to welcome the darkness of oblivion that unconsciousness brought him. It was a place to escape from the pain he suffered in the waking world, his only real salvation. More and more often he succumbed to the darkness willingly, the fire of hope within him flickering and beginning to slowly extinguish.

~Day 20~

When the lights turned on, Chris remained curled in a fetal position. He knew what was coming and prepared himself for the ruthless assault that would be brought upon him. He stopped fighting it long ago, stopped cursing the blond demon when he'd threatened to cut out Chris' tongue.

Wesker's steps echoed in the small room as he advanced towards his captive, who was a truly astonishing sight to behold. He had never witnessed Chris in so much agony, succumbing to the fate before him. He almost missed it when the brunet fought him. But today, he had a different type of pain to bring upon the man lying on the floor before him.

Chris gasped as Wesker's hand wrapped around his throat roughly, not quite hard enough to cut off his oxygen yet, pushing the brunet back onto the floor. Chris looked up at the shaded eyes of his ex-captain, wondering how the man he once knew so well could turn into this monster.

Wesker removed a knife from the confines of his coat, and Chris recognized it as his own, kept as a memoir from his days back in S.T.A.R.S. The blond cut a swift line up the center of Chris' shirt, tearing the fabric in half and exposing the toned muscles beneath.

"W-What're you-" Chris was cut off as a black clad hand struck his face, splitting open his lip and causing blood to trickle down his chin.

The brunet groaned in pain, using his small reserves of strength to try and push the monster off of him, but to no avail. Wesker was far too strong, and Chris could barely fight him in close combat at his best, standing no chance at doing so at his worst.

Wesker leaned down and smashed their lips together, the copper taste of the brunet's blood arousing him ever more. Chris tried to break the kiss, but Wesker's hand went to his chin to hold the brunet in place. Wesker bit Chris' lip, pulling it between his teeth and causing the blood to flow more. He chuckled deeply and licked the crimson liquid from the man's lip before shoving him harder into the floor.

Chris gasped for air before spitting the blood on Wesker's face. "You sick fuck!"

Wesker chuckled once more, wiping the blood off his face with the back of his hand, his eyes blazing beneath his shades like a wildfire.

"You better watch what you say to me, Chris, or I will make this much more excruciating for you." Wesker trailed the fingers of a black clad hand down the center brunet's chest, stopping just below his navel, the hem of Chris' pants proving quite an intrusion. He brought the knife to Chris' belt, cutting it with ease, causing Chris' pants to slide down just below his waist.

"Just kill me already!" Chris screamed out, aiming a punch at the Wesker's face, who deftly caught Chris' fist and crushed it in his iron grip, the brunet screaming out in agony.

"Always so much fight in you, Chris. But unfortunately I cannot, for what I plan to do to you is much, much worse."

Wesker pinned both of Chris' hands above his head with just one of his own, trailing the knife over the brunet's muscles, causing him to shudder in revulsion.

Chris looked away, trying to fight the tears that were coming to his eyes. He wasn't one for crying – hell, he hadn't cried since the night Wesker had betrayed him ten years ago… ten years ago today, but the events of the past few weeks were crashing down on him, especially considering Wesker was about to rape him.

"How… heartening." Wesker spat out, trailing the knife up to Chris' eye, his single tear falling onto the tip of the blade.

"Shut the fuck up!" Chris bit into the flesh of Wesker's exposed wrist, his anger and pain causing him to bite so hard that he felt his nemesis' blood flow into his mouth.

Wesker reeled back before striking Chris in the face and stabbing the knife under his ribs. Chris threw back his head and arched his back, a scream of pure agony forcing its way past his lips.

"That's it, _Redfield_, I'm going to destroy you!" Wesker lost his calm, collected self as he ripped the knife from Chris' stomach, tossing it away from them and flipping the brunet onto his stomach. Chris' face was pressed into the cold, bloody tile floor and within moments Wesker rammed his entire length into the brunet's entrance.

Chris bit his already bleeding lip to stifle his scream, tears trickling down his cheeks as his former captain fucked him. His eyes fell onto the knife lying on the floor across the room, and we wished it was beside him so he could simply end his life and be done with this suffering.

The blond continued his assault for some time before sliding an arm around the brunet's waist, pulling him back into his lap and fucking him deeply. Wesker bit into the flesh of Chris' shoulder, more of that delicious crimson liquid filling his mouth. He could practically taste Chris' pain and it aroused him even more, his trusts becoming faster and deeper.

Chris looked down at his reflection in the pool of blood on the floor, watching his body being ravaged by the person he hated most in the world. He was coated in his own blood, dark purple bruises littering his skin in most places. His eyes were dark and hollow, his very heart and soul aching. How could the captain he once admired and loved so much do this to him?

With his free hand, Wesker grabbed a handful of Chris' hair, yanking the brunet's head back and exposing the tender flesh of his neck. Wesker sunk his teeth in just below Chris' left ear as he came, filling him with his seed.

They stayed like that for a few moments before Wesker removed his teeth and pulled his cock from his captive before throwing him onto the floor. Wesker quickly fixed his clothing before leaving Chris alone in the dark, curled in a fetal position on the bloody floor. His captive was broken, and it brought great satisfaction to the blond as he grinned and walked down the hallway of the abandoned Umbrella facility, licking the blood from his lips.


	3. Forgotten

Chapter 3

Later that day, Wesker returned to his captives room with a syringe in hand. He had perfected a new serum and wanted to test it out on Chris. If it was a success, Chris would endure horrific memory loss: the past ten years of his life will have ceased to exist.

Wesker strode into the room, taking in the sight of his broken toy. Oh, how the sight brought him pleasure. Chris opened his faded brown eyes as the blond approached, weakly trying to get away from his ex-captain, his back now pressed up against the wall. His eyes fell on the syringe in Wesker's hand before looking up at the blond, his eyes full of pain, before breathing out a quiet, "Please, no…" Wesker smirked as he knelt down before Chris. His captive looked so… pitiful. Chris didn't have the strength to fight as he watched Wesker bring the syringe closer, pushing the tip into a vein in his neck. He let out a small gasp before his eyes fell shut and darkness overtook him.

_The black is everywhere, yet nowhere. It moves faster than the eye can see, surrounding its confused prey before backing it up against the wall. The black is too strong to fight, too fast to evade, too smart to outmaneuver. It simply is, yet is not. It strikes out, each blow precise and graceful, yet causing so much pain in its wake. The black is like an aura, surrounding him and engulfing him. The corners of it blend into the darkness, and it is impossible to tell the two apart. All Chris knows is that he has never been so afraid of something he does not know so much before. _

A mangled scream pushes its way past Chris' lips as he sits up quickly, body covered in a cold sweat. He does not remember what happened, or how he got here… wherever here is. He takes in his surroundings, black walls, black curtains, black comforter on the bed which he is laying… dark red oak furniture is placed throughout the room, no more than is necessary for what he assumes is a bedroom. A bedside table with a small glass lamp, a large clothes drawer, and a single chair in the corner.

Chris gasped, his body wracked with spasms of pain. Why did he hurt so much? The brunet pushes the comforter down, swinging his legs over the bed, and notices he is wearing clothes that he does not recognize as his own: a tight black t-shirt and black cargo pants. Bandages are wrapped around his left hand and other various parts of his body.

The door to the room is thrown open, making Chris look up, his eyes falling upon his captain Albert Wesker. Black shades rest on the bridge of his nose, his perfect blond hair is slicked back, and, like always, he is wearing his S.T.A.R.S uniform.

"Captain!" Without thinking Chris throws himself into his captain's arms, holding his superior tightly. The nightmare he woke from is still clinging to his skin; he can almost feel the black thing touching him…

"I came as soon as I could. Is everything alright, Christopher?"

Though the embrace was never returned, Chris nodded into his superior's shoulder.

"Yes, I'm fine now… where are we?" Chris pulled back from the blond, looking around the room.

"Surely you must remember? This is my house."

Chris thinks for a moment before remembering he had spent the night here once before.

"But why am I here? Why can't I remember what happened yesterday after we left for the mission…"

Wesker is calm and collected as always.

"Come with me to the kitchen, I will explain everything."

Chris followed Wesker to the kitchen, taking a seat across from him. Wesker crosses his arms and sits back in his chair before asking, "What, exactly do you remember, Christopher?"

Chris thought for a moment before replying, "Well, I know you and I were supposed to infiltrate a facility of some sorts and take out some criminals… that's about all I remember."

Wesker's lip twitches in a smirk ever so slightly. Chris doesn't notice.

Wesker leans forward and looks into Chris' hollow brown eyes.

"We were ambushed. The information we had been given was falsified. We had been expecting no more than five criminals, but as I kicked the door in, I had been greatly mistaken, as there were over two dozen. We did our best to take out as many as we could, but I was shot in the shoulder and you rushed out to fight the remaining men in hand to hand combat. You were greatly outnumbered and sustained serious wounds before Jill and Barry could provide backup. While you fought them off, in a feeble attempt to protect me, they injected you with some sort of sickness that is highly contagious. You've been unconscious for two days and your wounds are far too serious, so under doctor's orders, you are bed ridden for two months. I offered to keep you here instead of the hospital so you do not infect other patients."

Chris grumbled and buried his face in his hands before running them through his hair. "Explains why I feel like crap. I assume my phone and wallet are gone too?"

Wesker nodded solemnly, causing the brunet to release a groan.

The blond stands and goes to the fridge, removing what Chris assumed as last night's leftovers, before shoving the plate into the microwave to warm up.

"I assume you're hungry?"

Chris nodded and on queue his stomach growled.

In a minute the food was steaming hot and Wesker handed the plate and some utensils to Chris, who quickly dug into the food as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. Wesker chuckled watching the famished brunet eat, comparing him to a hungry tiger.

Once he was finished eating, Chris put his dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

"Is it alright if I use the shower, Captain?" Chris asked, his back to Wesker.

"Of course. The bathroom is across the hall from my bedroom." Wesker grabbed today's newspaper and opened it, his eyes scanning over the black text.

Chris nodded and entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. When he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror he gasped, bringing a hand up to touch his cheek.

The fact that it looked like he had aged ten years over night wasn't what shocked him the most. It was the fact that his eyes were dark and shallow, his hair longer and scraggly. Black bags were under his eyes, giving the impression that he hadn't slept well in weeks. There were several healing cuts and scars on the skin he could see.

Chris pulled the shirt over his head, the reflection in the mirror showing a bruised and thin body, the skin looking like it was pulled too tight over his bones. His ribs were protruding and defined, almost every bit of once prominent muscle gone. He turned his head, looking at the circular mark on his neck, an almost identical one on his shoulder, both of which were still red and swollen, looking like he had been bitten… by what was what worried him.

He proceeds to remove the blood stained bandages on his hand, his fingers purple and swollen as if they had been crushed by something... the bandage on his stomach is removed to reveal a deep stab wound, brought upon by some sort of serrated knife...

Chris pulled off the rest of the clothes, turning the water on hot and stepping into the shower, letting out a small gasp as the water massaged his skin. He washed himself off, making sure to scrub his hair thoroughly, before grabbing a towel and drying off his hair. He wrapped it around his waist before stepping out of the steamy room, almost walking straight into Wesker.

Chris looked at the floor and blushed, mumbling an apology to his higher-up. Wesker simply chuckled and handed him a clean pair of pajamas.

"You can sleep in my room again." Wesker stated, turning his back to the brunet and beginning to walk away.

"But where will you sleep?" Chris asked, dumbfounded.

"I have a couch you know, Redfield."


	4. Evil Eyes

_This time, the black is not alone. Something accompanies it. It is bright, it makes you flinch and look away. Impossible to meet its gaze, yet impossible to resist. It's like staring into the eyes of medusa, knowing what your fate will be, yet unable to stop yourself. Except these eyes are redder than molten lava, the pupils stretched like that of a cat, ringed with golden flecks. They bore into your very soul, fire hot, making the blood in your veins burn. These are the eyes of a monster that feels no fear, regret, or remorse. Something inhuman, that would end your life in a split-second. The eyes of a monster…._

Chris starts awake, much like the day before, his body drenched in a cold sweat causing the pajama's to cling to his skin. He is breathing fast, both his fists clenched around the black comforter, as if hanging onto something for dear life.

An image of those fire-red eyes is bored into the front of his mind, and he can't stop thinking about them, even as he gets dressed and runs a hand through his always messy hair.

Wesker is still asleep on the couch, the moonlight causing his skin to shine a beautiful alabaster color, and Chris walks carefully, silently, making sure not to rouse him. He goes straight into the next room, an office of sorts, and rummages around as quietly as he can, finding a large box of high quality pencil crayons and a couple dozen white pieces of paper.

Chris treads back to Wesker's bedroom, shutting the door and sitting upon the floor, placing a single piece of paper in front of him. He spreads out the pencil crayons, grabbing a black one for the details of the pupils, eyelashes, and edges of the eyes. He uses the brightest and deepest reds he can find, and a single stark yellow, and medium orange, blending the colors in perfectly together. He had never been good at art, but every detail must be precise, and it is.

He pushes aside the finished paper and grabs a blank one.

And another.

And another.

And another.

Until every page has been colored on. Chris shakes his head, and as if he was in a trance, has forgotten everything past the point of picking up the black pencil crayon. He is on his hands and knees in the center of a ring of pictures. The eyes that haunted Chris' dreams stare back at him, from every possible angle one could imagine. Fire-red coals, burning oranges, and cool yellows all blended together into the eyes of something inhuman, yet something wonderful.

Chris slowly reaches out and caresses his fingertips over the very first picture he drew. The highest quality, perfect to every single detail picture. The picture of the eyes that had looked right through him straight into his soul. He loses himself in those eyes, a rush of feelings overwhelming him. Hatred. Sorrow. Regret. Love. Pain. Forgiveness. Where are they coming from? He cannot remember. Each and every feeling strikes his core, every one more unbearable than the last. Before he can register what is happening, his eyes are falling shut and he is collapsing upon the floor.

When Chris awakens the next morning, he is lying on the bed, atop the sheets, with his arms folded neatly over his chest. He does not remember how he got onto the bed, but assumes he had awoken late during the night and lay down.

In the distance, he can hear the radio playing, announcing that today will be plus four with a slight wind chill, and that winter will be coming soon.

Chris takes a deep breath and stands, noticing the ring of pictures from the previous night no longer are splayed out on the floor. They are gone.

Chris grabs the box of pencil crayons and staggers down the hallway and to the living room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning simultaneously. Wesker is no longer on the couch, seeming to have disappeared for the time being. Chris looks around the entire house, the last room he enters is the office-like room, but still, Wesker is nowhere to be found.

He pulls open one of the desk drawers in an attempt to return the pencil crayons, only to find something with a shock. He places them on the desk itself and pushes away a few papers with meaningless notes on them, grasping the edge of a photo and pulling it out into the light.

It's a photo from the first day of S.T.A.R.S. Jill is standing in the middle, her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, a large grin on her face. Barry and Leon stand to her left, Barry's arm casually thrown over Leon's shoulder, which looks like he is struggling to get out of the grasp. Chris himself is on Jill's right, smirking madly like he won a golden medal, and to his right, Captain Wesker who, of course, looks perfect as always, his arms crossed at his chest.

Chris blushes as he thinks back to that day; the first time he ever set eyes on the man he called his captain…

_Chris walked into the Police Department, looking around in awe. It was a lot bigger than he had expected. Glancing down at the paper in hand, he re-read the floor and office number for the umpteenth time, making sure to memorize it, as well as the name of the man that would possibly be hiring him. Albert Wesker… it had a nice ring to it, and Chris couldn't wait to put a face to that name._

_It had been three months after being discharged honorably from the air force that the brunet had received a phone call from a secretary, stating she had read his resume and he seemed like the perfect candidate for the position that needed to be filled, although she didn't say much more than that… Chris was unsure of what exactly would be expected of him, if he were to receive this job. _

_Chris took the stairs two at a time, climbing up to the second floor and opening the door. Inside, he was greeted by a man with dirty blond hair and green eyes that didn't seem to be much younger than he was. Chris later found out the man was Leon S. Kennedy, who would soon become his best friend. _

_Stopping in front of room 290, Chris took a deep breath. He didn't have to worry about his posture, or being neatly kept, it was something he had acquired in the air force. Just for good measure, he ran a hand through his hair, and knocked briefly on the door three times. There was silence for a while before Chris was told to enter._

_Chris pushed the door open, looking around the room. It seemed to be bare for the most part, lacking personal necessities besides a few framed documents on the wall, a desk, two black leather chairs, and a Persian rug._

_"Ah, yes, Christopher, I assume?" _

_Chris finally looked to the far side of the room, where a man wearing a police uniform was sitting. He had gorgeous slicked back blond hair, a pair of black shades hiding his eyes, and his hands were clasped nicely on the desk. Chris was bisexual, having no preference in either sex, even after having experiences with both, Albert Wesker was a god compared to every other person he ever laid eyes on. His perfectly chiseled jaw and golden skin…_

_"Uh, yes. Though I prefer to be called Chris…" Chris stammered, not sure about how to act towards his soon to be superior as he shook the mans hand._

_"Take a seat, Christopher." Chris sighed inwardly and sat on the opposite side of the desk from the blond, keeping his posture proper and his head clear. He couldn't be developing a crush on the man already… he knew nothing about him!_

_The blond flipped through several pages of paper slowly, taking his time reading each detail on them. Chris assumed it was his resume. _

_"Have you had any experience with guns before, Christopher?" The blond asked, flipping another page._

_"Yes, it was part of our initial training for the air force."_

_"It says here you were ranked highest of your class for courage and improvement, as well as progress, although there is a comment that mentions you tend to not listen to orders. Is this true?"_

_"Well sir, I…" Chris mumbled, not liking where the conversation was going._

_"Just answer the question."_

_Chris bowed his head in defeat. He wasn't going to get the job._

_"Yes, it's true."_

_From his peripheral vision, Chris could see the blond smirk ever so slightly as he flipped the last page. _

_"Christopher Redfield is an astounding man. He can think fast and logically under pressure, as well as assess and react to situations to a level above-and-beyond average capability, making him a key member of this team. He may be stubborn, hard headed, and doesn't tend to follow orders, but Christopher is a man of great capabilities and accomplishments, who would be the perfect addition to any team." Wesker read aloud a comment from Chris' previous captain before setting the papers neatly on his desk._

_"I'm sorry for wasting…"_

_"You're hired."_

_Chris stopped mid-sentence._

_"What?"_

_"You're. Hired." _

_Chris smiled a real, genuine toothy smile and leaned forward to shake the blond's hand once more. _

_"Thank you so much, sir! I won't let you down!"_

_"I sure hope not, Christopher." _


	5. Weak

_Wesker had always been there. Through every moment of Chris' journey throughout Africa, Wesker was watching. _

_As Chris searched for the plates to continue his quest in the marsh, Wesker hid himself in the shadows of an abandoned hut, his eyes shining brightly._

_He watched as Chris and his team narrowly avoided being gunned down by two majini manning heavy machine guns on a boat, a grin on his face._

_Wesker stood atop a tall ruin in the Aztec ruins, watching the two partners almost get incinerated by the large beams of fire. At one point, Chris had looked through the lens of his PSG-1, and Wesker was sure the brunet had seen him… but Chris casually slung the strap of the weapon over his shoulder and continued with his journey._

_There was a reason Chris hadn't died yet. He had a purpose to serve…. That purpose was to serve Wesker._

_There were many times Wesker could have revealed himself and ended the brunet's life. But he had fun watching him struggle. He couldn't wait to wrap his hand around the brunet's throat and squeeze, watching the life fade from those chocolate brown eyes…_

_Like a viper waiting for the precise moment to strike, he waited, always watching, for his prey to make a fatal move. Of course, it didn't happen until Chris had tried to overdose Wesker with the serum that keeps his progenitor virus at bay. And that was when things changed. _

_Chris cannot see anything. He is fumbling around like a blind man, trying to grasp something he cannot see. He feels helpless. Without sight he is vulnerable to the brutal attacks that come from within the darkness. And they do. Each time he is struck, new wounds are opened and more blood is spilled to the point where he falls to his knees and begs it to stop… anything to make the pain stop. _

_Everything in quiet for some time before a dark chuckle is heard, a ravenous, lunatic sound that sends shivers down the brunet's spine and causes goose bumps to rise on the skin of his arms._

_"So… weak."_

_Chris is gasping, trying to fill his lungs with precious air that will not come. The sound of that voice… it's like liquid honey, smooth, rich, sweet… and accompanied with a slight British accent. It is wonderful, like a euphoria, filling Chris' core until he is about to burst. Whose voice is it, and why does it sound like the voice of an angel?_

Chris sways on his feet for a moment before collapsing, falling back and hitting his head hard against the wall. A sharp sounding noise escapes his mouth and he groans in pain, rubbing the back of his now throbbing head.

"Ngh…"

"You should be steadier on your feet, Redfield."

Chris looks up to find his captain standing in the doorway, his arms crossed at his chest.

"Sorry sir… I'm just feeling a little light headed, s'all."

Chris manages to get to his feet with one hand braced against the wall for support. The world was spinning around him.

The brunet noticed his captain taking a few steps towards him.

"Don't worry, I'm fine…"

Right as Chris pushed off from the wall he collapsed into Wesker's arms unconscious, his hair falling over his face. The blond carried Chris to his bedroom bridal style, laying him down on the black sheets and sitting upon the bed. Wesker turned his head ever so slightly and took in the sight of the brunet, his chest rising and falling slowly, his face flushed.

Wesker smirked. Not only had the brunet been stripped of his memories, he was also in a weakened physical state. The only thing he had seemed to remember was…

The blond pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it to look at the most detailed picture Chris had drew of his demonic eyes. Wesker traced his fingers over the picture lightly before letting out a sigh. Was it possible that the brunet could obtain his memories somehow? He'd have to figure out a way to stop that. For now, he just had to make sure Chris remained in the dark…

_It was the first sunny day of spring, the air warm with a light breeze. The S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team had been given the day off since no missions needed to be done right away. The office was dark and empty, not a single soul inside. Jill and Barry had gone down to the beach for ice cream, Leon in search for Ada as always, and Captain Wesker… was lying in a field of grass and flowers, looking up at the sky. Chris had been shocked to find him outside, assuming the man hated the sunlight like a vampire or something._

_Chris sat beside his captain, arms resting on his knees as he looked across the field to the small creek beyond it which filling the air with the gentle sounds of rushing water. Neither of them said a word, Chris soon stretching out his legs and leaning back on his hands, looking to the sky. Wesker laid his head on his subordinate's lap, causing Chris to look down at him. Their gazes locked, and before Chris knew what he was doing, the black rims of his captain's glasses were between his pointer finger and thumb, being pulled off the blonds face._

_Although Wesker made no attempt to stop the brunet, he was mildly annoyed at Chris' behavior. Chris merely stared down into his captain's eyes, a smile spreading across his face. Wesker's eyes were a very light, almost non-existent blue layered with a frosty white color. Eyes the color of ice… One of a kind, and Chris knew he had been the only one Wesker allowed to see them. _

Chris slowly opened his eyes, smiling at the dream. It was one of his most precious memories, the only day that his captain had seemed to show Chris something…_more_… than he did to anyone else. The brunet rolled over and pulled the blankets up to his shoulders, content for the moment, before falling back into a deep slumber.


	6. Submission

Chris stood on the balcony, leaning slightly forward, arms resting on the railing. He stared out across the beautiful green meadows and the creek that surrounded Wesker's property. Being on house arrest sucked, since there always seemed to be a lack of things to do.

Chris wasn't one for 'snooping', but when Wesker left him alone for the day due to work, Chris coped with the boredom by going through a few things.

What had been bothering him was that there was no sense of time in this place, although there was never a lack of clocks, Chris didn't know the actual date of the days that went by ever so slowly. He made a mental note to find a newspaper.

After an hour of finding nothing of interest, Chris decided he would check his Facebook account. He sat down in the nice leather chair that adorned the miniature office, and set himself with the test of cracking Wesker's password.

"Hmmm… what would he use?" Chris tried several important dates, the names of Wesker's favorite guns, places, holidays, anything that seemed to make some sort of sense. Just for fun he figured he would try his own name.

_Chris Redfield_

With a cheerful tune, and to Chris' surprise, the computer unlocked itself. He would have to ask Wesker about that later.

Once Chris signed onto his account, he couldn't help but gasping. Sure, he hadn't checked his account in maybe 4, 5 days. But 296 messages and 1300 notifications?! Several of which were from his closest friends Leon, Jill, and Barry.

With a sigh, Chris clicked on the messages Leon had sent him.

_June 27, 2008_

_1:39 a.m._

_Chris, its Leon. Wherever you are, you better find a means of contacting one of us. We've all been worried sick. Please be okay._

_June 30, 2008_

_10:02 p.m._

_Chris, we're all really worried. No one has heard from you in a week. Your house is cold and dusty, you neglect to answer your phone, and no one knows where you are. This isn't funny. Message me._

_July 4, 2008_

_5:50 a.m._

_CHRIS, ITS LEON. SHEVA JUST GOT BACK FROM AFRICA AND TOLD US WHAT HAPPENED. WHEREVER YOU ARE, PLEASE BE SAFE. WE'VE DISPATCHED EVERYONE WE CAN TO TRY AND GET SOME LEADS ON YOUR WHEREABOUTS. IF YOU MANAGE TO GET THIS MESSAGE, CALL ME. _

_July 13, 2008_

_7:18 a.m._

_Chris… they've stopped looking for you now. Jill, Barry and I refuse to stop. We have a lead on Wesker. Apparently he's been seen in a small town in South Africa called Calvinia. We're going to check it out. _

_July 30, 2008_

_5:07 p.m. _

_I'm really sorry Chris… we have to stop searching… just whatever you do, stay alive. Please. For me. _

Chris sat back in the chair, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"The year 2008? But it's only 1998…" A quick look at the computers date confirmed it. September 5th, 2008.

"Oh my God…" Chris immediately starting typing a reply.

_To: Leon S. Kennedy_

_September 5__th__, 2008_

_2:35 p.m._

_Leon, its Chris. I don't know what's happened, but the last thing I can remember is setting out on a mission with Captain Wesker only a few days ago. I was injected with an illness by the enemy and am staying here with him until I am okay, so that no one else gets sick. I have no memory of the past ten years, if today is really September 5__th__, 2008. There are no phones here, so this may be the only time I can contact you. I do not know what is going on anymore Leon… _

In only a few minutes, Leon had replied.

_September 5__th__, 2008_

_2:39 p.m._

_Holy shit Chris! I can't believe you are alive and okay! Send me the computers I.P. address so we can track you down and take you home. Today is really the 5__th__. You've been M.I.A for two and a half months. Now we know Wesker has kidnapped you. No matter what, Chris, stay alive. Lead him on; make him believe you know nothing. We will be there as soon as we can. And Chris...? You owe me a date when you get back._

A sick, churning filled Chris' stomach. Captain Wesker had lied to him. Kept him locked up here this entire time…

_September 5__th__, 2008_

_2:41 p.m._

_.01.01. I'll be waiting. _

Just after Chris had sent the message, the internet disconnected and wouldn't reconnect. With an audible sigh, Chris opted for looking through the files on the computer. The one place Wesker would think as safe.

Chris muttered under his breath the name of each folder he clicked on, until coming across one labelled 'Umbrella'.

"Umbrella… as in the pharmaceutical company?"

Chris' eyes scanned over the fine print in the file, his stomach churning all the more due to what he was learning. Turns out S.T.A.R.S had only been to get top trained soldiers to test out the abilities of the B.O.W.S on Rockfort Island, in the Arklay Mountains, and at the Spencer Estate.

He had meant NOTHING to his captain... it was all just a ruse. And he had loved the man! Did love the man… Still loves the man.

"Captain… why?"

Slow, melodramatic clapping could be heard, and Chris looked at the door to find no other than said captain standing in the doorway.

"Well well well, looks like you've figured it all out, Chris."

The way his name rolled off of the blonds tongue, with an acidic hiss, caused a sharp jolt of pain to Chris' head, causing the brunet to lean over in pain, hands on his head.

"Agh!"

And Chris remembered. Every time the monster had spat out his name in hatred and disgust. Every time they fought, blood and sweat and tears spilled over and over again. He remembered every curse, every promise, every threat. He remembered the two months Wesker kept him captive, beating him, starving him to death, and… fucking him.

By the time Chris recovered, Wesker was standing in front of him.

"H-how could you?!" Chris spat out, in more mental agony than physical.

"The answer to that question, Chris, is quite simple really. You were a pawn in my game, nothing more, nothing less. You refused to die every time I deemed fit, and now you are part of a far greater plan. Uroboros is almost complete, and I shall rid this planet of the human race once and for all. But, of course, you must be dealt with first…"

Wesker removed a red, spider-looking device from the pocket of his leather coat, holding it firmly in his hand. He lowered it to Chris' eye level.

"I'm quite sure you know what this is?"

Chris tried to stand, but collapsed to his hands and knees in front of the blond.

"What a suiting position. I rather like you on your hands and knees."

"Stay away from me!" Chris tried to crawl back away from the blond, but once again, was prey cornered by the predator.

Wesker tightened his hand in a fistful of dark brown hair, causing Chris to hiss out in pain as he wretched his head back, looking down into the dark eyes of defiance the inferior wore.

Wesker leaned down and kissed Chris deeply, who in response, struck the blond, knocking the shades off his face. Wesker smirked and licked the blood from his lips, eyes burning a deep, crimson red.

"You'll pay for that!"

With inhuman speed, Wesker released his hold on Chris' hair, tearing the black shirt open and slamming the spider-like device onto his chest.

Chris screamed out in agony as the legs of the device cut open his flesh and sunk deep beneath the skin, wrapping around muscles and tendons and arteries. Blood dripped from the wounds profusely, sliding down his stomach and dripping onto the hardwood floor. His breathing was quick and fast, the pain like a fire, consuming him.

As soon as the screaming began, it stopped, and Chris remained on hands and knees staring down at a puddle of his own blood. Fighting a battle inside his own body and losing, unable to control his own actions.

"Get up."

At the sound of Wesker's voice, Chris' mind was filled possessive thoughts.

_I must obey my master. Obey my master. Master. Master. Master. _

Chris got to his feet, hollow, soulless brown eyes staring into Wesker's own crimson ones. Wesker smirked.

"You will be a better slave than Jill was… perhaps I should give you a small task, to prove you can live up to my wishes?"

"Yes, master."

A glint of lust flashed in Wesker's eyes as he grabbed Chris' wrist and dragged him into the bedroom, sitting on the bed with the brunet in front of him.

"Suck me."

_'No…no…no… . .nonononononono!' Chris was screaming at himself eternally, watching, unable to do a thing to stop it, as his own hands undid the blonds belt and pulled down the zipper, reaching inside to free his cock…_

_'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_


	7. Rescued

Chris grasped Wesker's cock firmly, stroking it a few times before leaning down and licking the head. The brunet swirled his tongue around it, coating it in layers of his saliva before licking along the underside. Pre-cum beaded on the tip of Wesker's cock and Chris did not hesitate to lick it off before taking the head into his mouth and sucking.

_Chris tried to break free, to control his actions, but to no avail. It was like trying to break free of steel restraints. It was impossible. He screamed at himself mentally, disgusted for being such a slut._

The brunet slowly took inch after inch of Wesker's length into his mouth, until he could take no more, the tip of the blonds cock at the back of his throat. Wesker let out a low growl, which did all the more to arouse his slave's body.

Chris bobbed his head up and down, the entirety of Wesker's cock filling his mouth over and over. Wesker ran his hand through the brunet's hair, gripping his locks and forcing him down onto his cock faster, causing the brunet to moan in pleasure. A few more hard thrusts and Wesker came, growling deeply. Chris licked his lips and remained on his knees, waiting for a new order.

_Chris saw an opening. It was like a crack in a pane of glass; a weak spot. He hit it with all of his will and broke free from the prison._

Chris took in lungful's of precious air, glad to be in control of his own body again. He could still taste Wesker's seed in his mouth, but ignored it. Said man was lying on his back on the bed, catching breath. Now was his chance…

Chris stood and ran out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and straight to the front door, and barrelling through it using his shoulder without even stopping. He made it one step onto the lawn before Wesker was behind Chris in the blink of an eye, grabbing a handful of the brunet's hair with one hand, the other wrapping around Chris' waist and pulling the brunet against himself. Wesker Chris' head back viciously, causing him to gasp and exposing the skin of his neck. Wesker bit down hard, ignoring the screams of pain from the other. Blood trickled from the wound, sliding down pale skin slowly for a moment before Wesker lapped it up.

"See what happens when you disobey me, _Chris_?" Wesker spat out his name.

Chris screamed as jolts of white hot pain swam through his body.

"Aghhh!"

Wesker released him, letting the brunet fall to his hands and knees.

"Looks like you had to learn the hard way. Then again, you always were quite stubborn..."

Chris groaned and stood quickly, using all of his energy to swing at Wesker, who simply caught Chris' fist within his own before the brunet collapsed against him, panting hard.

"So…weak."

Chris' eyes slowly fell shut and he gratefully accepted the dark embrace of oblivion.

Leon pressed his back against the tall pine tree, taking a deep breath before stepping out into the open, his handgun drawn, and surveying the area. Once he was sure everything was clear, he gave signal to his team to move up. The location Chris had messaged him from was a two story house in the middle of a forest, which was now surrounded by hundreds of soldiers. Leon only hoped he wasn't too late.

As Leon stepped out into the open, walking across the small field in front of the house, a loud creaking noise was heard. He instantly raised his gun to eye level and aimed at the front door, which swung open quickly. Everything was silent for a few moments before Chris walked out, clad in a black V-neck tee shirt and black cargo pants. His hair was longer and more scraggly, giving him a wild look. Chris also seemed a lot thinner than when Leon saw him last….

"Chris!" Leon yelled out to his old friend, lowering his gun and running towards him. It had been so many months since he had last seen the brunet…

As Leon was about to throw his arms around Chris, the brunet raised his hand quickly, backhanding Leon in the face. Leon staggered back in shock, slowly raising a hand to his red cheek.

"…Chris?"

As Leon looked into Chris' eyes, he knew. Those shallow, faded orbs no longer held his friend within them. They withheld a monster.

Dozens of soldiers raised their guns at once, the motions sending echoes throughout the empty space. Leon took his hand from his face, putting his back to Chris, and signaled to his men.

"Stand down!"

Just as he gave the order, a sharp, hot pain shot through his lower back. It took Leon a moment to realize what was happening, and by then he was already on the ground. Dark crimson liquid pooled around him as Leon reached behind himself and tore the serrated combat knife from his back, his hand shaking as he dropped it onto the ground.

His men moved in, their guns still trained on Chris.

"Don't shoot! This is a rescue mission!"

Footsteps could be heard, and Leon turned to see no other than Albert Wesker striding gracefully towards Chris from behind.

"Leon, how nice of you to join us."

Leon watched as Chris didn't visibly flinch or move away as the blond put a hand on his shoulder.

"Although, there seems to be a problem. You've come to rescue Chris, yet he doesn't appear to want to go."

Leon raised his gun and pointed it at the blond, his finger tense on the trigger. He kept his jaw tense, trying not to give in to the white hot pain flowing through his lower back.

"Just let him go, Wesker!"

The blond's eyes flashed red under his shades as he glared down at Leon. He lazily raised a hand, flicking his wrist at Leon.

"Kill him."

Wesker vanished just as Leon fired a bullet, moving far too fast for anyone to see, before appearing in the semi-circle of soldiers. Slowly, one by one he began snapping their necks and backs, dispatching them at a very quick rate. Bullets were sprayed everywhere, some hitting nothing while others hit his men, but not once did a bullet touch Wesker.

Chris only hesitated for a moment before tackling Leon to the ground, his hands wrapped around Leon's throat, cutting of his oxygen supply.

"C-Chr…is…" Leon tried to pry Chris' hands off his throat, but to no avail. His vision was blurring at the corners and a pressure was building in his head. Leon reached down to his belt, pulling out a tazer and stabbed Chris in the chest, sending ten thousand volts through his body. Chris let out a choked scream before releasing his grip and falling unconscious beside Leon, who coughed wildly and tried to catch his breath.

Once he recovered, Leon slid his arms under Chris' armpits and began dragging him through the woods towards the helicopter that was waiting for them. He felt terrible that more lives were lost under his watch, but Chris life was more important than any of them. The pilot helped Chris onto a gurney in the back and started the helicopter, the blades fanning the air. Soon they were airborne, leaving Wesker behind to stare up into the sky and smirk.


	8. Savior

Leon let out a sigh of relief as the helicopter gained altitude, shutting his eyes and resting his back against the fuselage. His breathing was shallow and he knew he had lost a lot of blood.

Leon peeled his eyes open to look at Chris, who, in his opinion, was in a much worse state than he was. With a closer look, faded purplish-yellow bruises covered Chris' arms, and his neck was covered in white scar tissue. Chris was much, much thinner than he initially thought. Leon wondered what could have caused the brunet to attack him so violently? Did he not recognize his friend anymore?

Just to be safe, Leon pulled the handcuffs from his belt. He tightened the first cuff around Chris' wrist in fear of the brunet waking and unleashing his animalistic rage once more. As the second cuff clicked locked, Leon's thumb brushed the engraving on the metal – a reward for joining the Raccoon Police Department. Even though it had been over five years since the outbreak, he kept the cuffs as a reminder of the struggles he went through.

Leon's vision swam – he could no longer focus on one thing, and any hopes of a coherent thought vanished. The edges of his vision darkened until his world turned black, the agent falling onto the floor beside Chris and surrendering to the abyss that welcomed him.

When Leon came to, the first thing he was aware of was how blindingly _bright _everything was. Even through closed eyelids the agent could tell he must be in a hospital of sorts, considering they were the only places in the world that contained so much _white_ stuff.

Leon opened his eyes, squinting painfully, his pupils dilating while they adjusted to the light. The heart monitor he was attached to beeped at an even pace, the green line jumping up and down repeatedly. With a quick look around, Leon knew that a) he was definitely in a hospital, and b) Chris wasn't in the room, which was not good. He threw back the blankets and sat up, hissing at a jolt of pain swam through the muscles in his back. He made sure to stretch before standing and tearing the IV needle from his arm and disconnecting the other wires.

The agent was thankful he wasn't wearing one of those robes that leave your ass hanging out, but a loose mint-green scrubs t-shirt and matching pants. He grabbed his wallet off the bedside table and slipped it into his back pocket.

Leon walked out of the room on bare feet, standing in the hallway not sure whether to go left or right, no signage of any sort to indicate where the receptionist may be. Going with instinct, Leon turned and began walking to the right. A doctor followed by two nurses ran by, and he decided to follow.

After what seemed like ten different hallways, they came to a stop outside of a room, whomever within seeming to be making a fairly large amount of noise. The doctor flipped through the pages attached to his clipboard.

"I just don't get it! We've tried everything! Sedatives won't work, and four men can't restrain him!"

"Who is it?"

The doctors head shot up, his eyes falling on Leon.

"You're not supposed to be in here. Jenna, call security," the doctor motioned to one of the nurses.

"You don't need to do that. My name is Leon Kennedy. I'm an agent for the President." Leon pulled his wallet out and showed the doctor his badge. He frowned before flipping through the papers again.

"His name's Chris Redfield…"

"Chris?!"

Leon gripped the doorknob and turned, but it was locked.

"He has very erratic behavior. It's too dangerous for you in there."

"Please let me in. Chris is my friend. I can help."

Leon questioned whether the frown was permanently planted on the doctor's face, or if the guy just really hated his line of work.

"Very well. But expect to wake up back in that bed."

The doctor slid a key into the lock and unlocked it, opening the door and allowing Leon inside before locking it again.

"Just scream if you want out," the doctor said through the small glass panel on the door.

Leon took in the first room. Chairs were toppled, a table was flipped, and papers were strewn across the floor. Except for the sounds of Leon's bare feet crinkling the paper, the room was silent. A door hung open on the far side, and Leon hurried over to it, pressing his back against the wall before quickly stepping out and checking his surroundings.

Leon managed to jump back just in time to avoid a swift kick to the stomach. Chris stood before him, his brown hair messy and his dark eyes burning.

"Chris, stop! It's me, Leon, your friend! Don't you remember me?"

Chris launched himself at Leon, and this time the agent wasn't so fast to react. He was tackled to the floor and barely had time to catch Chris' fist within his own only inches above his face.

"Stop this!" Leon groaned and threw the brunet off of him, the two tumbling on the floor until Leon was on top, attempting to pin Chris' arms above his head. The wound in his back flared, sending a burning pain through his muscles. Had Chris been at his full, healthy potential he could have easily overpowered Leon, but in this weakened state the two were at an even strength. Although Chris seemed to have the adrenaline of an animal backed into a corner, it only made him more vicious as the odds grew against him.

It was at that moment, when the two men were struggling for power, that Leon noticed the very faint red glow coming from under Chris' shirt. He quickly pulled down the neckline of Chris' shirt, revealing a red, spider-looking contraption on Chris' chest. Chris wrapped his hand around Leon's throat, squeezing as the agent grasped the device and pulled, the wires ripping out of Chris' chest. The brunet let out a scream of agony and the device was torn free, causing Leon to fall back onto the floor. Both men were breathing heavily, and a decent amount of blood flowed from the wounds on Chris' chest.

"Leon..?"

Chris' voice cracked as he realized he was in control of his own body. Tears instantly welled up in his eyes. Chris wasn't a man of many tears, but the overwhelming sense of relief flowed through him and before he knew it the tears were sliding down his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry... I-I couldn't control it… and-and I stabbed you…"

Leon pulled the brunet into a hug, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh.

"It's ok. I forgive you."

The two pulled apart and Leon looked into Chris' chocolate brown eyes.

"I need to know what happened. From the beginning."


	9. Right Where He Wants You

Leon and Chris were seated on the couch in Leon's house. Two story, white siding, small yard: the American dream.

As soon as Chris finished explaining about his capture, he took another sip of rum from the bottle. They were both men, so why use a cup? It just created more dishes to clean.

Leon sat cross-legged, deep in thought.

"So, is Wesker really that obsessed with you that he has to use some fucked up form of mind control to make you his slave? Couldn't he ask nicely like an adult?"

Chris chuckled and took another sip of his drink.

"Yeah, well, you know Wesker. He's an ego-maniacal bastard. He probably has mommy issues. Oh wait…"

Chris laughs at his own joke, the smell of alcohol strong on his breath.

"That guy has serious problems. Not to mention he wants to destroy the world using a large tentacle monster. I mean, really. What is this, some messed up anime porn? Is he going to rape us all to death?" Leon shakes his head at his comment. "I just can't figure it out. I mean, why not just kill you? He always whines about how you get in the way and thwart his plans, yet he never hurts you enough to inflict a fatal wound. Why?"

Chris pulls his lips into a thin line. He thinks he knows why, but doesn't voice it aloud.

_Love? No. Wesker is incapable of such an emotion. _

Chris glances at the clock – it's shortly after one in the morning. He stands and sets the bottle of rum on the glass table that's in front of the couch.

"I should head home, it's getting pretty late."

Leon stands too and nods, leading the way and opening the door for Chris.

"Are you sure you don't want a ride? It's no trouble, really."

Chris shook his head.

"Nah. A late night walk will be good for me. Need the fresh air."

Chris steps out into the cold.

"Chris! Wait!"

Chris turns back to the agent, who holds his palm upturned, pistol resting in his hand.

"Take my gun. Just in case."

Chris thinks for a moment before nodding and taking the gun from Leon. Their fingers touch. It's better to be armed, like Leon said, just in case. You never know what's hiding in the dark.

It's just after three in the morning, and Leon is finally heading to bed. He slips off his gear, setting his empty pistol holder on the bedside table and his combat knife beside it. He slips on a tight black t-shirt and baggy blue plaid pajama pants before sliding under the covers and staring at the ceiling.

A noise starts Leon awake in the middle of the night. He opens his eyes to find a tall figure clad in black looming over him, the moon shining behind him, ominous red demon eyes glowing. Leon lets out a scream that's cut off abruptly by Wesker's hand wrapping around the agent's throat, stopping oxygen from filling his lungs. Leon blindly reaches for his pistol, hand wrapping around the empty holster and realizes he gave his gun to Chris. His fingertips touch the cool metal of his combat knife, but it's too late. His arm goes limp and he stares up into the devil's eyes for one last moment before falling unconscious.

Chris is rudely awoken by his high-pitched ring tone. He ignores it for what seems like forever, but the phone does not stop ringing. He groans and grabs it off the bedside table, the caller I.D. coming up as "unknown". Hesitantly, he swipes his finger across the touch screen and a video appears, grainy at first but slowly coming into focus.

Leon is tied to a chair, his mouth gagged with a cloth, his dirty blond hair matted with blood. More of the crimson liquid has dried on his forehead. His eyes look heavy, as if he is on the border of conscious and unconscious. Wesker stands behind Leon, holding a knife to the agent's neck just hard enough to break the skin and cause small rivers of blood slide down his neck.

Wesker smirks at the camera, showing rows of perfectly straight and white teeth.

"Hello, Chris. I believe I may have something of yours. If you wish to claim _him,_" Wesker slides the knife up Leon's neck, past his chin and stopping as his cheek just under his right eye, "you shall meet me at the cemetery on Old North Street. Come alone, or I'll kill him." Wesker presses the knife into the delicate flesh under Leon's eyelid, causing the agent to whimper through his gag and shut his eyes tightly.

"A fair trade, don't you think? Your life for his? You have one day Redfield. Act fast."

The call ends abruptly, and Chris tries calling back to find the number out of service.

He has no choice. He must give himself to Wesker to save Leon's life.


End file.
